Impossibility
by CSIvHP11
Summary: An artifact storm in her youth caused HG to lose her best friend. She found no answers in to 1800s, could the 21st century bring different results? Bering and Wells, slight AU
1. Chapter 1

**Slight AU Bering and Wells fic. HG's POV. I own nothing, absolutely nothing.**

"Hurry up, Helena."

"I'm hurrying, McKenna. Why is it so important?"

"Just is."

Helena groaned, and continued to follow her taller friend. They trekked through the back streets of London. They ducked under crumbling walls, and leapt over abandoned crates.

"Are you sure this is worth it?" Helena asked.

"Of course I'm sure. Don't you trust me?"

"Hardly."

McKenna froze, the turned to her friend. Her green eyes glared at Helena. "Why not?"

"The constable knows us, even when we wear my brother's clothing."

"That's your fault as much as it's mine."

"It is not."

"Is so."

"Is not."

"Whatever. Let's go."

McKenna took off again, leaving Helena no option but to follow.

They finally stopped at an abandoned building. McKenna crept to the corner, and peeked around.

"The coast is clear," she said. She looked back at Helena and grinned. "Come on, then."

She turned the corner before Helena could protest, leaving Helena with no option but to follow.

A small gate sat opened in the side of the building. McKenna slipped through it, not caring about the mud that now covered her trousers. Helena rolled her eyes, and followed.

"Charles is going to kill us when he sees what we've done to his trousers," she said as she tried to wipe as much of the mud of as possible.

"He'll survive. Perhaps if he wasn't quite a simpleton he would get mud on his trousers himself," McKenna said. Helena was about to respond, perhaps to defend her brother, but her friend had already started to move through the tunnel they had entered. Helena quickly caught up, not wanting to possibly get lost.

She stayed as close to McKenna as possible. The only light source was the gap they had just come through. It barely illuminated the damp walls that surrounded them. The thin light reflected off of the stones, creating more shadows than the space had any right to have.

They walked in silence. Only the sounds were those of the squeaking rodents and the squelching of the girl's shoes. Even those sounds, however, filled the small space. They echoed off of the walls, and seemed to deafen the girls.

They turned a corner and the light vanished. McKenna reached back to grab Helena's hand as her other hand reached out for the wall.

They walked through the black like that. McKenna using the wall as a guide, while Helena let the taller girl lead her forward. They turned a few more corners before they saw light again.

"That's it," McKenna breathed when the light appeared in the middle of a straight stretch.

It was a small grate in the floor, just over a foot wide. When they reached it, McKenna stepped over it, and crouched down. Helena copied her on the other side.

They both looked down through the grate. Bellow them was a giant room. Rows and rows of shelves filled it entirely. They could make out a few objects on the shelves, but Helena could find no order to them.

"Do you smell it?" McKenna whispered. "The apples?"

Helena sniffed the air and grinned. "Yes. Do you have any idea what this place is?"

"I'm not sure. A storage of sorts, though not like any I have seen before."

"It's fascinating."

"It really is."

Something in McKenna's voice changed. Helena looked up at her. There was an odd look on her friend's face that she did not like.

"McKenna?" she asked.

Her friend looked up as well, and grinned. It was a wild grin. A grin nothing could contain.

"I'm going down there," she declared.

"What? How do you plan on doing that?"

The taller girl reached behind her, and pulled a rope forward. "With this," she whispered. She tied a loop on one end, and attached it to a nail in the wall.

"You shouldn't do this. You could get hurt. You could get in a lot of trouble."

McKenna just grinned. "I'm doing it, Helena. You can't stop me." She knelt by the grate, and pulled it free.

Helena grabbed her arm.

"Let's just go home. It can't really be that interesting."

"I'm going down there. Make sure the rope doesn't slip off the nail."

She lowered herself through the hole before Helena could physically stop her. Helena watched as her friend slowly climbed down the rope. McKenna moved slowly, aware of how far the drop was. Time seemed to slow down as she went half a meter, one meter, two meters, four meters. Helena could see her start to slow down even more.

Then, time seemed to stop.

McKenna's grip faltered.

Her speed picked up.

She was falling.

She landed.

A large cloud of smoke filled the area beneath the grate. A cloud so thick Helena could not make out the top of the stacks, let alone where McKenna had fallen.

"McKenna!" she screamed through the hole. "McKenna!"

Other voices started to sound from below. Deeper voices. She paid them no mind. Her only focus was on finding her friend.

"McKenna! McKenna!"

The smoke started to clear. She could start to make out the tops of the stacks. The middle shelves. The floor.

McKenna was nowhere.

"McKenna!" Her throat was started to grow raw. "McKenna!"

"Hey!"

She jumped at the voice. It was louder than the others. She looked around the room beneath her. Her eyes landed on a man staring at her. She locked eyes with him for a moment.

Suddenly, he called to the others in the room, and pointed at her.

She jumped back from the hole, and quickly started to journey back through the tunnel.

It seemed to go slower than the first time. Her fear and panic blinded her enough that the darkness made no difference. She slipped a few times, and ran in to the wall more than once, but she kept moving.

Finally, light filled her sight again, and she located the gate. She climbed back through and made herself vanish in the streets.

* * *

**Years later**

"Is there something interesting in a gate on the side of a building?"

Helena jumped slightly, and turned her head to the side just enough to see who had spoken. Caturanga.

"Not to the average person, there is not," she replied.

"You are no average person, Miss. Wells."

"No, I suppose not."

"Then why are you staring at the gate?"

Helena took a deep breath. She could still see McKenna's face as she fell. The sheer terror that had covered it in an instant.

"I was ten. A friend and I had taken some of my brother's clothing, and had gone exploring in the city. She led me to this gate. She had found the Warehouse at a prior date, and, I believe, had visited a few times. That time, she wished to do more than observe." She took another breath.

"And she fell," Caturanga said before she could continue. Her head snapped in his direction. He nodded solemnly. "I had thought that you might have been the girl we saw in the tunnel. Was not sure until just now, however."

Anger started to rise up in her. She managed to keep in contained, but she felt it stirring. "Do you know what happened to her?" she asked him.

"We are not entirely sure," he told her. "There is a chance that, upon landing, she activated a few artifacts. However, as we are not sure which, we have no way of knowing what exactly happened."

Helena looked back at the gate. "I should have stopped her. I could have stopped her."

"Perhaps you can find her." His voice was lighter, and made her freeze.

"What?" Her entire body turned to face him.

"The Warehouse should have kept you two out that day. Unwanted presences are usually led astray. That is why the gate had not been fixed; most people simply do not notice the gate. That you and your friend did, and were able to find the Warehouse within says a great deal."

"What do you mean?"

"You found your way back to the Warehouse. There is a high probability that, had the accident not happened, she would have as well."

"We would be apprenticed together," Helena breathed.

"Most likely. So, there may be a chance that the Warehouse will help you locate her."

"How?"

"That is something you must figure out on your own."

He turned and started to walk away. She glanced at the gate one more time before hurrying after him.

"You can't help me?" The accent of her childhood was seeping back into her voice, but she couldn't be bothered. Not if she had a chance of getting McKenna back.

"The Warehouse works in mysterious ways, Miss. Wells. You accompanied her into the Warehouse that day, it is up to you to help her return. It would not be right for me to help you."

"Surely there's some way…"

"Miss. Wells," he cut her off. He was smiling, but she felt as though she was a child being scolded by a teacher. "There are something's you must do alone. There is nothing more to it."

She felt herself resign to what he was saying. Her shoulders slumped slightly and her head dropped a bit.

He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "If you are meant to find her, you will," he said.

She nodded, and straightened her back. She would find McKenna. She had to.

Caturanga turned to walk away, but stopped briefly.

"One last thing. You smelt apples that day, didn't you?"

"We both did."

He smiled and nodded, then walked away, leaving Helena alone in the street.

* * *

**Even more years later**

"Are you sure about this?"

Helena looked up at her old mentor. He was standing just inside the room she had been assigned upon joining the Warehouse. The Regents had locked her inside in order to keep her from running.

"I cannot see any other way," she said.

"You know, people do not often ask to be bronzed. We do not know much about what it is like, but what little we do know is not pleasant."

Helena sighed and leaned back in her chair.

"I have become a danger. I know that, as do you, as do the Regents. I have to be taken care of somehow, and this is the method I prefer."

"Helena…"

"No. I have already caused the death of one fellow agent. I have almost led two others to the same fate. I failed to protect my daughter, and I have failed to locate McKenna. There is nothing for me here, nothing."

He watched her for a moment. She almost seemed defeated as she sat at the desk. Her head was down and her shoulders slouched. Her hand was idly doodling on a sheet of paper. Yet, there was something about her that refused to give in.

"There is no guarantee that you will be de-bronzed. Ever. You will most likely be stuck in that state eternally."

"I can hope that I will find a better world. Can I not?"

"The bronzer is not a time machine, Helena."

She tensed. "I know that, but it is the closest I can achieve."

Caturanga was about to say something, but he stopped when he felt a presence behind him.

"It is time, Miss. Wells," the Regent said.

Helena nodded, and stood up. She walked with her head high and her back straight, refusing to show weakness. She stopped in front of Caturanga.

"Thank you," she simply said before following the Regent.

Caturanga did not move. He could not watch his best pupil walk to her fate. Instead, he entered the room and walked to the desk.

He lightly touched the paper she had been doodling on. A single eye had been sketched in the center of the paper, with a few bars separating the eye from the viewer. The majority of the drawing was done in pencil, and the detail put into it amazed him. However, it wasn't the eye or what he assumed was a gate that stood out. Thin lines of green ink covered the page, originating from the center of the pupil, and not ending until the paper did.

He sighed, and slid the paper, as well as others that sat on top of the desk, into the top drawer. He looked around the room one time, then left it. He closed the door behind him, and locked it.

Helena had preferred to stay in her own house, but the room had been provided for her regardless. The room would be preserved in the Warehouse forever. It, and her few items stored in another vault, would be the only evidence that she had even been a part of the Warehouse.

* * *

**21****st**** Century**

Plans raced around her head as she sat in her hotel room. So many opportunities had opened up to her. Yet, others had closed. She let the pencil in her hand absently run over the paper on the desk as she mapped out her options in her head.

She could attempt to live life in this new century. She simply had to research the cultural customs and norms, and do her best to fit in. Money would be an issue, but it would not be hard for her to continue to invent, in both the physical and literary worlds. She just wasn't sure how well she would handle being separate from the Warehouse when she held the knowledge of it.

She could try to return to the Warehouse. It was the single aspect of her life that had not completely changed. Being so close to the artifacts, however, would tempt her in many ways.

She could try and find an artifact that could return her to Christina. After a century the amount of artifacts must have exponentially increased. The chance that something could help was greater than it had been.

She could continue her search for McKenna. If she could convince the Regents and current agents that she was not any harm to them, she would be permitted to return to the Warehouse. She could use the database to resume her quest, and possibly find the truth.

She could carry out the plan she had set in place before being bronzed. It would not be hard to hire some fools to locate Warehouse 2. The problem after, however, would be traversing the traps left as protection. Of course, this would also require her to return to the Warehouse, but would also require betraying the trust of those there.

She sighed and looked down at what her hand had created on the paper. She raised an eyebrow when she took in the side profile of Agent Bering.

Something about that woman had captivated her. A part of her wanted nothing more than to actually get to know her, show her that she did not mean any harm.

She mental ticked off her options again, and she grinned. She had no doubt that she would be returning to the Warehouse again, which meant she would get her chance to investigate why Agent Bering had entranced her so.

**Next part should be up at some time. I have to write it first.**


	2. Chapter 2

Those green eyes. She should have focused on trying to breath, or getting out of the hold, but she couldn't tear her focus off of those green eyes.

She managed to gasp out some words, and the hand left her neck. She doubled over, and used the time to not only get her breathing back under control, but to force her mind back to what was happening.

Right. Medal. Artifact. Wrestling team. Dead boys.

Wait. Agent Bering had called her a killer.

They were calling her a killer because she had killed a man who would have killed all of them. She was quick to defend herself. Agent Bering was quick to change the subject.

There was something in the agent's eyes when Helena reminded them about MacPherson. Those green eyes.

Helena looked Agent Bering's body over, not just admiring the agent before her, but taking in her body language. It didn't match up. Her eyes said one thing, but her body said another.

She handed the medal to the girl with Agent Bering. Claudia she believed her name was.

She stepped closer to Agent Bering. Her tone was light and just a bit flirty as she pointed out Agent Bering's obvious inner conflict. She used the proximity to study Agent Bering.

There was something there. Between those eyes, those green eyes, and that hair that screamed at Helena.

The voice sounded from the hallway before she could figure out what it was. In a moment, she was out the door and distracting the coach in order to let Agent Bering and Claudia escape.

She was stuck talking to the man for longer than she had liked. When she managed to get away, however, her thoughts returned to Agent Bering.

She couldn't place it, but there was something there, something about the woman that bothered her. It dug under her skin but she had no inclination to dig it out. She just wanted to figure out what it was, and why it was there.

She wandered through the campus until she found a small café. She ordered a small coffee and sat by the window.

Her mind continued to linger on Agent Bering. She was just not able to keep her mind off of the agent, no matter how hard she tried.

There was something about her, something Helena could not pinpoint. Her eyes. Her hair. Her reactions to Helena. It screamed familiarity and strangeness as the same time.

She took a sip of her coffee and winced. She wasn't very fond of the drink, but refused to drink what Americans tried to pass for tea.

She looked around the shop, and noticed that it was being emptied. She stood, and followed the crowd of patrons. They were all handling their mobile phones, and seemed to be looking for something. They did not stop until they reached a blocked off section of a road.

She arrived in time to see a stretcher wheeling a body off. Just seconds later she locked eyes with Agent Bering. She felt her body tense for a second before she turned to leave the crowd.

She had expected Agent Bering to follow her, so she wasn't surprised when she heard the voice, and turned to see the taller woman chasing her.

She also wasn't surprised when Agent Bering started to insinuate that she had something to do with the deaths. It would make sense to the agent, after all.

She wasn't surprised that Agent Bering protested her bringing up her old partner.

She was slightly surprised when Agent Bering asked about the Escher Vault. She had expected the taller woman to focus on the case at hand. She hadn't been prepared for the emotions that broke through her façade. She hadn't been prepared to talk about Christina.

She was quick to cover her pain, however, by sharing her desire to return to the Warehouse.

She could see the conflict in those green eyes. Her emotions started to rise again as she plead her case. If she could just convince Agent Bering that she meant no harm to the Warehouse, that she just wanted to help, everything would work out.

Then the car came, and Helena found herself in the air with Agent Bering clinging to her side. Her arm was wrapped around the agent's waist, and the agent's arms were dead locked around her torso. She could feel the taller woman's heart beat as her chest was pressed against Helena's side. She heard Agent Bering's breathing change, and her skin tingled where the warmth hit.

Something had changed when they returned to the ground.

The atmosphere between the two had shifted. Where there had been unspoken accusations before, there was now a sense of teasing. Their conversational tones lightened. There was even a sense of, dare she wish it, flirting.

They locked eyes, and Helena understood.

Those green eyes no longer held the suspicion that had flooded them. Confusion had taken its place. Confusion and, if she was not mistaken, a slight bit of trust. That small part of the brain that still functioned as a creature of pure instinct was telling Agent Bering, Myka, to trust the woman who had saved her life.

* * *

Helena sat on the edge of the bed in the hotel room. Her mind was still caught on Myka.

A part of her still didn't understand why she had given up her grappler. Another part, however, understood completely.

There was something about Myka that Helena just could not pin down.

Those eyes.

Everything about them, the color, the drive behind them, the way they seemed to look right into her, see through every shield she put up, tried to call back emotions she hadn't felt in over a century.

That hair.

The way it carelessly hung over the agent's shoulders, bouncing with each step, practically screamed familiarity.

That scent.

She had caught a few whiffs in their first few meetings, but had not gotten the full complexity of it until she had leaned close to Myka in the dorm room. She could detect something beneath the chemically created scents of the taller woman's hair products and body wash. Something she was sure she had smelled before. Something that made happiness swell up inside her.

That smile.

She hadn't expected that smile to hit her so hard. The way it had lit up those eyes. The unexpected happiness it had caused to rise up in her chest. Her own desire to see it again, to be the one to cause it.

Her mind raced as she tried to place that smile. That scent. That hair. Those eyes.

Then, of course, there was the way Myka had pulled the grappler from its holster. Almost as if it had been made for the agent.

She groaned as the information she was reaching for continued to elude her. She moved to her feet and walked to the small dresser that sat in the corner of the room. The top of the dresser was covered in folders of varying thickness.

She ran her finger across the name neatly written in the top corner of the folder on top. _Myka Bering._

She lifted the folder with light fingers, and moved back to the bed. She climbed onto the mattress, and sat cross legged in the center with the folder in front of her. She flipped the folder open with her thumb and those green eyes were staring at her again.

She didn't bother looking through the rest of the papers; she knew every single detail. It amazed her that she remembered it all. MacPherson had found everything he could about Myka's professional life, and the size of the folder showed it. The only folder thicker was the one on Agent Neilson.

She lightly ran a finger over the picture. There really was no need for her to be looking through the folder.

She just had to see those eyes again.

* * *

Helena scrolled down the webpage as she read it through. It had been weeks since she had first encountered the laptop in Tamalpais, and she had taken it upon herself to learn how to use one. Although she had made progress, she could still only find the most basic information available through the search engine the girl who had taught her had explained.

Still, she had found more than had been in the folders. It seemed MacPherson had not cared about personal information while compiling the information. Or, had at least not shared it with her.

She had discovered that Myka's parents owned a bookstore in Colorado. That she had won a national fencing tournament while attending university. That she had lost her brother as a child.

Helena sighed, and closed the article about an event Bering & Sons had held years ago.

She could not stop researching Myka. She knew more than necessary, but still wanted to learn more. Perhaps hoping to figure out why the agent fascinated her so.

She scrolled through another page. This one was a small news site. Her eyes stalled on one headline. She clicked it, and quickly read the article.

She was already planning by the end. Yes, it was sad that Agent Dickenson had been killed. However, this was her next chance. She had yet to run into Myka since she left the factory weeks ago, had not even had the chance, really.

* * *

She couldn't help but grin when Myka walked away from the group. Until that point, she had been unsure of how to approach the woman, now she had been given the perfect opportunity.

Somehow, she once again found herself opening up to Myka, this time even so more than previous.

It had started off well. She had managed to surprise the taller agent, who had shown no personal hostility.

It did not take long before she was talking about herself, explaining her past. Explaining why she was in the present century.

She had planned on avoiding the topic of her past. She had only wanted to ask about her return to the Warehouse. One look from Myka, however, and she could not help but give in.

Myka took in her words in a contemplative silence. When she did speak, her words gave Helena hope.

"The bronzer was your time machine."

Not a condescending reprimand on using artifacts for personal gain. Not an aghast exclamation on learning that she had caused an agent's death.

It was a simple statement, an observation.

It was acceptance.

Then that smile. It pulled at the edges of Myka's mouth, growing slowly. She looked away a moment later, as if to hide the smile, but Helena caught it.

When Myka turned and sat down next to her, when Myka promised to talk to Arthur, a sense of achievement filled Helena. Yes, she was one step closer to fulfilling her goal, whichever she went with, but it was more than that.

Myka believed her. Myka trusted her.

She just hoped she was worthy of that trust.

**I don't own anything.**


End file.
